


When You Need

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Kissing, Light Angst, ie Wedge being Wedge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Mon is clearly busy with the normal business of running the Rebellion, duties far more important than what Wedge has come here for. What was he thinking?





	When You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yunmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Amanda! <3

The guard outside Mon's door gives Wedge little more than cursory glance and a nod as he approaches. The pilot visits often enough that most of them know his face and are used to his unannounced visits. Wedge wonders if that's a good thing but clears the thought from his mind as he knocks on the door.

“Come,” Mon calls, and Wedge's eyes flicker shut for a moment just hearing her soft voice before he acts on the permission.

She's at her desk, stacks of flimsi and datapads in front of her, and she smiles up at him as the door slides closed again. “Wedge. Hello.”

“Hello,” he echos dumbly, because suddenly he doesn't know what to say. She's clearly busy with the normal business of running the Rebellion, duties far more important than what he's come here for. What was he thinking?

Mon tilts her head a little, concern entering her blue eyes. “I heard about your mission today. I'm sorry for you losses.”

Wedge looks away, closing his eyes again, stomach clenching against more memories he's already trying to forget. More names forcibly scrubbed from Rogue Squadron's roster, more friends dead.

“I wanted to see you,” Mon goes on gently. “I'm sorry I couldn't get away.”

“Your work is more important.” Wedge swallows hard, knowing the words are true. He knew how it would be when this thing between them started. He's not bitter. Not when he's being a good person. He's trying to be a good person now.

“Wedge, come here.”

He can never not do what she says – that's part of this, too – and he closes the distance between them that he's felt painfully since the moment he entered the room. Mon gazes up at him for a long moment before pulling him down to her. She frames his face in her hands and draws him in for a kiss, soft and slow and full of meaning. He sinks into it gratefully.

It ends too soon, but she keeps her hands on him. Strokes his cheeks and the dark shadows he knows are beneath his eyes. He hasn't been getting enough sleep lately. Who in the Rebellion ever does?

“What do you need, Wedge?” she asks. She knows it's nothing official, he can tell from the tone, and she's right of course.

“Nothing pressing,” he makes himself say, not meeting her eyes. “I should leave so you can get your work done.” _Should._ He aches not to.

She frowns at him. “You didn't answer my question.”

She's going to make him be honest then. Good. He can admit he needs that sometimes. Often.

“I just want to be with you,” he says quietly. “After today...I don't want to be alone.”

He could be with the other Rogues. They're hurting, too, of course. But he's seen to them as best he can already, and in the interests of being honest, he longs to be seen to himself.

Mon strokes his cheek again and glances over at her desk. Wedge braces himself to be sent away, a guilty admission that work is indeed more important. He's had it before. It won't upset him. Not objectively.

Instead, eyes back on him, intent, Mon says, “You understand that you're important to me, Wedge?”

He nods. He knows, but he also understands priorities. The galaxy at large doesn't care about smaller things.

“You can still send me away if you need to. I unders–”

Mon stands abruptly, and Wedge starts back, cutting himself off.

“That won't do at all.” Mon smiles at him again, bright, reassuring. She takes his hand, squeezes. “You're not going anywhere, love.”

He melts a little at the endearment, like he always does.

Mon selects a datapad with her other hand and leads him to the other side of the room, through a door into her sleeping chamber. The bed is made immaculately made, covered with pillows. It looks so inviting.

Mon climbs onto the bed, tugging Wedge after her. He just remembers to kick off his boots before they dirty the covers. Then she's arranging herself among the pillows, sitting against the headboard as she guides Wedge near. He goes, utterly relieved as he curls up next to her, head in the soft warmth of her lap. One of her hands slides into his hair, rubbing his scalp gently.

“How's this?” she murmurs.

Wedge doesn't have words. He could cry at how good it feels just to be near to her, to feel cared for and loved despite everything, despite a thousand other issues pressing in on both of them from all sides. Instead, he just turns his face into the pale folds of Mon's gown and breathes in her comforting, familiar scent.

“I do need to finish reading this report,” she confesses, and there's the apology he expected earlier. There's a soft sound as she thumbs the datapad back on. “But I'm quite happy to have you here with me while I do so.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, not moving, then he adds, heartfelt, “I love you, Mon.”

“I love you, too, Wedge. I wish I could give you more of myself. But never doubt that you have every piece I can possibly spare. Always.”

He knows she means it, and it makes him choke up a little all over again. How does he deserve someone like her?

“Try to rest,” she murmurs, stroking his hair. “You're safe now.”

Wedge lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. Safe. Loved. Cared for. He lets himself sink into it.


End file.
